Better Living
by Sadie Flood
Summary: Two people unexpectedly bond while dealing with their feelings about absent Rory. Written for the Improv. WIP.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Better Living  
Author: Sadie Flood (sadieflood666@yahoo.com)  
Rating: PG-13 (language)  
Improv: The title of an Edward Herrmann film.  
Author's Note: I missed a lot of the introducing-Jess episodes, so if his dialogue or actions seem out of character, please feel free to e-mail me with constructive criticism about that. Or anything else.  
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.  
Spoilers: References to the end of season 2, and a character (or two) not present in season 1.

  
It wasn't supposed to be like this.  
  
You see, my summer was supposed to be thoroughly uneventful. They always are. If that lack of spontaneity has annoyed me in the past, I would definitely grovel at its feet if it wanted to return anytime soon.  
  
The first sign that this wasn't going to be three months of hardcore studying, hanging around my room, and having highly caffeinated chats with Rory every morning at Luke's: Rory's announcement that she was leaving. And, of course, her confession regarding the reason why. I tried not to judge her, or at least not to sound judgmental when she spilled her guts, but I don't know if I succeeded. She was going to leave anyway, regardless of my reasonable advice that instead of running away, she should stay here and figure out what the hell she wanted and deal with it like a rational person. But, you know, that would mean actually facing a problem, so I don't know why I even bothered.  
  
Does that sound bitter?  
  
The second sign that my summer wasn't going to be typical: I got a job! It wasn't much of a step up; Sophie just decided she could finally use a full-time assistant, and I was desperately happy when she offered the position to me first. My mother was skeptical at first--"What do you need more money for? Are you doing drugs? Is that woman your drug dealer?"--until I convinced her that I could use the (very small) amount of money to help fund our next trip to Korea. I don't even care where the money goes. I'm still just thrilled to have an excuse to get out of the house every single day except Sunday.  
  
And the third sign, the most apocalyptic by far, was when a boy actually started stalking me. A boy who definitely wasn't Korean and who definitely had no intentions of becoming a doctor. He came into the store every day, followed me on my lunch break until I started spending it in the store.   
  
It wouldn't have been so bad, I supposed, if he weren't completely detestable. Apparently it wasn't enough for him to break up Rory and Dean. Now he was trying to break up me and Rory. Well, I wasn't going to stand for that.  
  
To my credit, I think, I tried to make him go away. The first day he came into the store, right in the middle of June, he was browsing through the sheet music books in the back, but he wasn't actually touching anything. Just looking. There was a group of about two or three girls I'd seen around school pretending to examine guitar strings and sneaking glances in his direction. And having random fits of giggling, of course, at the most annoying pitch a human can hear, the last one before it becomes so high only dogs can hear it. Unfortunately, it wasn't derisive giggling. It was oh-he's-so-cute-don't-you-want-to-eat-him-with-a-spoon giggling. And it was making me ill. I figured I was new to the customer service thing. I was entitled to a mistake or two. I was sure Sophie would understand.  
  
"I'm sorry," I informed him. "I don't believe we have anything by Sum 41 or System of a Down."  
  
"Ouch." He pretended to recognize me. I say "pretended" because whatever else Jess might be, a good actor is not one of them. "Hey, I know you. You're Rory's friend, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I know you too," I said. "Maybe you can find what you're looking for on the Internet. I hear Blink 182 and Jimmy Eat World have a lot of super cool fan sites."  
  
"I've never worked in a music store, but isn't it generally, you know, bad to insult the customers?"  
  
"I'm new," I shrugged. "I don't know things like that yet."  
  
"I don't need any assistance, thanks." He flashed a disingenuous smile and returned to browsing. Annoyed, flabbergasted, et al., I just stood there.  
  
"Well, could you at least disperse your groupies?"  
  
That got him. "What?" Could he really be that oblivious?  
  
"The skanks." I waved a hand in their direction. "Your fan club."  
  
He was clearly flattered, for some reason, and tried to hide a smile. "You think they're--"  
  
"Apparently they're attracted to your whole Holden Caulfield vibe," I said dismissively. "Personally, I find that whole thing just a little less than interesting and certainly lacking in originality. But I guess some chicks dig it."  
  
Without waiting for a response, I headed back to the counter and pretended to be busy.  
  
When I looked up again, he and the girls were gone. I definitely didn't want to know where they had gone or what they were doing. And I figured that, thankfully, was the last I would see of that particular juvenile delinquent for the rest of the summer.  
  
But then he came back the next day and looked around the sheet music again. He bought a book. It didn't even suck. Then he came back the next day and bought some of his girlfriends' rejected guitar strings. I wondered if he played or if it was just an excuse. The third day he didn't buy anything. The fourth day I noticed him in the store in the morning and then skulking around behind the counter at Luke's during my lunch.  
  
I always thought I'd like to be stalked. But it actually turned out to be rather irritating.


	2. 2

I tried to shake him off on the fifth day. He was looking at drumsticks. That just pissed me off. Now he was really intruding on my territory. Plus I was tired of looking at his faux-angsty pretty-boy face every single day. He was probably just trying to get a rise out of me. Unfortunately, it was working.  
  
"What?" I asked.  
  
"You really need to work on your people skills. I believe the question you're looking for is, 'May I assist you?'"  
  
"Cut the crap. What do you want?"  
  
"Drumsticks."  
  
"And guitar strings? And sheet music??" I demanded.  
  
"Gee, I guess you're right, it does look suspicious."  
  
"What I mean is, why are you coming around here every day?"  
  
"The first day I needed sheet music, but the girl behind the counter was rude, so I decided to come back another day when she might not be there. She was, but I bought my sheet music anyway. Then I broke a guitar string. I needed another one. Then I decided I needed a new set of drumsticks. It's not that mysterious."  
  
"What about Luke's? You were there."  
  
"I do kind of live there," he pointed out. "Look, Lane, I sort of feel like we got off on the wrong foot here."  
  
"How do you know my name? Oh wait, that's right, you probably memorized everything Rory's ever said to you, because you're a stalker."  
  
"We're back to insulting the customers?"  
  
"Am I wrong?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"I'm not a stalker."  
  
"Right." I headed back to the counter, hoping he'd just go away. Instead he followed me.  
  
"What is your problem?"  
  
"My problem is, you're single-handedly responsible for the demise of my best friend's first serious relationship."  
  
"Single-handedly? Really? Because I would think that at least some of blame might lie with Dean, who obviously wasn't interesting enough to hold her attention if she was looking at me."  
  
"I don't--"  
  
"And she was, by the way, looking at me. I didn't kidnap her and force her to spend time with me. She hopped on that bus to New York. She kissed me."  
  
I opened my mouth and closed it again. Mercifully, I was saved from having to come up with an immediate, clever response by an actual customer needing actual assistance. When I turned back, Jess was gone. Again.   
  
The next day I expected to see him, and he didn't show up. I supposed his intentions had probably been innocent from the beginning and I had just been paranoid. Day after that was Sunday, and I didn't work. By Monday I had almost forgotten all about him. I worked all day and it was almost dark outside when he finally showed up. He dropped the pretense of shopping.  
  
"Lane," he said, while I slammed and banged things as menacingly as I could in the process of getting ready to close the store. "Lane!"  
  
"What?"   
  
"Look, I think we should deal with this."  
  
"Why? I don't know you. You want to screw up Rory's life, go for it. You're right, she's involved too, it's her life to screw up, and I have no place telling either of you what to do."  
  
"Because you care about Rory and you might not believe it, but beneath all my uninteresting Holden Caulfield posturing, I care about her too."   
  
"That's really special."  
  
"And besides that, everyone in this town is either brain-dead or well, I don't remember where I was going with that. But you're not brain-dead, and that's cool."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"I'm saying I think we could get along if you could get past the idea that I'm out to fuck up your best friend's life. Because I'm not."  
  
I stopped what I was doing and sized him up. Was he telling the truth? It was impossible to be sure. I decided to be honest. "Well, the thing is, my m--"  
  
The door swung open, the bell jangling, throwing my train of thought way off its track. Kirk looked around furtively, clutching a beaten-up acoustic guitar.   
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
"I'm here for a lesson," he informed me curtly.  
  
"You are?"  
  
Sophie emerged from the storeroom and said, "Kirk!"  
  
He hurried to the door she'd just opened and disappeared. "I can trust you?" she asked me.  
  
I nodded.  
  
Jess said, "We could get something to eat."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because it's late."  
  
"No, I mean, why would I do that with you?"  
  
"Why wouldn't you?"  
  
"Because of what you did to Rory, or what you helped her do to herself, and because my mother would set me on fire. Or you. Or both of us."  
  
"Why? I'm not asking for your hand in marriage."  
  
"You've clearly never met my mother. An invitation to dinner might as well be a marriage proposal." In the back, I could hear Kirk struggling through "Red River Valley." Note, note, note. Long pause. Note.  
  
"Would she like it better if we just happened to meet up and sit at the same table?"  
  
"I don't guess it would matter," I said slowly. "But that doesn't solve the first part."  
  
"I want us to be friends."  
  
"So I can tell you the best way to get into Rory's pants? I don't think so."  
  
"It has nothing to do with her. It's solely about two unconventional people stuck in a small town for the summer uniting against the forces of conf--"  
  
"All right, all right," I laughed. "Go. Al's Pancake World. I'll meet you there in 15 minutes."  
  
He grinned. "I knew I'd wear down your resistance."  
  
"Go."  
  
He opened the door and paused. "You're not gonna stand me up, are you?"  
  
I shook my head.  
  
The door slammed shut, causing the bell to bang against the glass repeatedly. God, I hated that thing. I was in the process of getting my purse from under the counter when the door opened again.  
  
The guitar playing in the back came to an abrupt stop. The sounds from the back became more of the late-night Cinemax variety than Red River Valley. I stood up slowly. Jess stood in the doorway. We were both frozen in place. "Come on," he whispered.  
  
We pushed the door open carefully and he held the bell so that it wouldn't make any noise. I closed and locked it and we ran down the sidewalk yelling like eight-year-olds, trying to clear our heads of the unwelcome mental images resulting from what we'd heard back there.  
  
We stopped in front of Al's Pancake World, laughing and gasping for breath, and I found myself pausing, looking at him, surprised that of all the people in this town, I should be sharing this utterly pleasant and certainly memorable moment with this guy I didn't even like. In fact, I disliked everything about him, from what he'd done to (or for) Rory to his stupid hair to the book in his back pocket.   
  
Yet here we were, beyond all that, and it was almost like we'd known each other forever.  
  
Why did I suddenly feel like I was betraying Rory?


	3. 3

Author's Note: Thanks for filling me in about Lane and Jess in Teach Me Tonight. I missed that one. So I guess this is an alternate universe fic. :) 

~~~~~~~~

After that, it became much easier to forget about her, except for two days out of the month: the day the first letter from Rory arrived from her little summer camp-slash-vacation from her problems and the day the latest issue of Seventeen arrived with the words "Are you a best friend or a backstabber? Take our quiz and find out!" printed in hideous bright orange letters over Sarah Michelle Gellar's left arm.   
  
But for the next two weeks my days mostly went like this: I'd work, see him on my lunch break, work some more, and later we'd go to a really quick dinner together. I wondered if we'd ever have become friends in a world where food didn't exist, or if we'd still be friends if one of us went on a diet, or if I suddenly developed a nasty allergy to non-Korean food. But it was nice. We bickered, mostly, about music and books and films, and it was nice to have someone around who wasn't afraid to actually express an unpopular opinion about those things, for once.   
  
Then my mother found out and that was the end of that. I had lunch with her and dinner at home. She couldn't have stopped Jess from coming into the store, but I was afraid of being forced to quit my job if he did come around for non-legitimate purposes and she found out. We moved our discourse to the ever-handy Internet and that worked out for a while. When he told me he had a plan, I was undeniably dismayed but also strangely pleased that he was so interested in spending time with me that he'd actually gone and worked out a plan.   
  
"No," said Luke, gruffly. This should have come as a surprise to no one. Jess sulked and I made one last great attempt to plead, but since my hair isn't long and brown and my last name isn't Gilmore, he wasn't going to budge on the issue. So our grand plan to sneak up to the apartment and watch videos from 5 to 8 every Tuesday night--the time during which I convinced my mother I would be studying the Bible with another girl from my group--was dead, because Luke was and is a big fat chicken afraid of my mother's wrath.  
  
We were leaving the diner, looking dejected in the hope that he would come to his senses and say, "Oh, I was just kidding! Of course you crazy kids can do that!" when I spotted Kirk across the street, examining a tree or something. "Kirk!" I called. "How's it going?"  
  
He looked scared. "Oh, you know fine. What do you want?"  
  
"Good, good. Hey, listen. Do you happen to know of a place we could use to hang out without parental supervision once in a while? Like, say, on Tuesdays?"  
  
"Um, no."  
  
"Really? Because I was thinking maybe we could use that room you rent from your parents above their garage."  
  
"Why would I let you do that?"  
  
"We could arrange it so that we'd only spend time there while you were out."   
  
"Why would I let you do that?"   
  
I sighed. "Because if you don't, I might tell Sookie about Sophie."   
  
After a pause, he made a weird growling noise and I began to wonder if we shouldn't just call the whole thing off. "Fine," he spat. "I have a pottery class in Hartford on Tuesday nights from 5 to 7. The key will be under the mat. You'll have to clear out before Buffy."  
  
"What a fabulous coincidence! Thank you." I smiled sweetly and pulled Jess by the arm down the sidewalk.  
  
"What was that?" he asked, after we'd gotten out of Kirk's range.  
  
"What?" I said innocently.  
  
"You telling that one about the other one."  
  
"Oh. He had a little too much champagne at Sookie's wedding and confessed to me--I think he thought I was Taylor, by that time--that he'd had a crush on Sookie since the first time he laid eyes on her, and he still intended to save himself for her. Clearly that didn't happen, but I thought he might still care."  
  
He had cared, enough to deliver on his promise. We didn't trash the place, we just hung out without worrying about who might see us. The credits were rolling when Jess said quietly: "I came back here for her, you know."  
  
Was there a subject I was less interested in talking about? I would have rather begun a spontaneous dissertation on the deeper meanings of the entire discography of the Backstreet Boys. With a gun to my head. But I made some vague noise of agreement or understanding instead.   
  
"She knew it, too." Please shut up. "And then she just left. She kissed me."  
  
He sighed. I wanted to tell him to suck it up, that she wasn't here now to witness his suffering and I didn't care. Instead I said the first thing that came into my head, which was, regrettably, neither a deconstruction of "I Want It That Way" nor a sensible plea for him to get over it already. "Yeah, well, sounds like Rory," I muttered.  
  
"What?"  
  
Too far, too far, too far. "Never mind." Ah, yes. Be mysterious. He definitely won't pursue it.  
  
"No, what did that mean?"  
  
Dig yourself out, Lane. "Nothing!" Or not. "What time is it?"  
  
"No, no, no, you're not getting off that easy. Spit it out."  
  
"Look, Kirk will be home any minute, and I should probably actually read some of what I'm supposed to be covering just in case my mother decides to administer a pop quiz."  
  
"You're saying she's done this before."  
  
"My mom? God, yes, all the time, it's insane."  
  
He couldn't hide his laugh, though he tried. "Not your mom. Rory."  
  
"Possibly, maybe, but so what?"  
  
"I just didn't take her for the type."  
  
"No one ever does." When did I get so bitter? I liked Dean; Dean was a nice guy. And it definitely sucked, what she'd done to him. But that wasn't what was getting me so worked up now, was it? No, this had less to do with Rory and Dean and Jess than it did with me and Rory and Jess. I realized that the rest of what I wanted to tell him was: suck it up, she's not here and I don't care, and she doesn't care and I _am_ here.  
  
I took a deep breath. "Look, I like you, even if you do think The Strokes are original. But Rory is the last person I want to talk about when I'm around you. I can't explain it. Please?"  
  
He looked confused.  
  
I walked home alone.   



End file.
